


All Our Colours of Anger.

by entanglednow



Category: Lost
Genre: Anger, Community: kink_bingo, Incest, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-04
Updated: 2010-08-04
Packaged: 2017-10-14 12:43:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're both angry, but for different reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Our Colours of Anger.

  
Jacob's temper has always been the opposite of his own. It's sharp and fierce. It burns quick and hot and, more often than not, leaves him quiet and ashamed in the silence afterwards.

Esau knows just how to press, just where to push, to bring that quick, hot anger to life.

He wipes blood off his mouth, stares at the red of it, stark against the tan of his hand and the dirt-smudged length of his fingers.

"Is this what you want, Jacob?"

Jacob shakes his head, quick and unhappy. "It's you, it's always been you." There's a tightness there, a breathless frustrated need to know why underneath. The way Jacob has always asked, as if it's something he has a right to be angry about. Even if he never dares to question.

"You never cared about what I wanted," Esau says darkly.

"It's always about what you want?" Jacob says again, fierce, like it's a personal failing to want things. To want things and to be able to have them.

"Do you even know what you want?" His voice is a rumble of accusation, or mockery. "You can't think for yourself. You do whatever she wants, whenever she wants, any time you're pushed."

That's the part that hurts, hurts in a way that wants to hollow him out just a little more every time.

Jacob still looks furious.

"Do you want to hit me again?"

"Yes," Jacob says. Only he looks frustrated too. Frustrated and unhappy, hands fisted in Esau's shirt like they can hold him here and make him stay.

"Then do it."

Jacob's hands flex, like he isn't sure whether to get a better grip or do as he's told.

"Do as you're told Jacob, that's what you're good at after all."

He's prepared for it this time. It's a backhand that takes him into the trunk of the tree. The side of his face stings like hell and the cut in his lip is running again, a wet line that tastes like metal and fresh meat.

Jacob's breathing hard, staring at him like he has no idea what he's doing, or what he hopes to accomplish. Esau's laughing through a bloody mouth at the stupidity of it all.

"Jacob -"

It's not a slap this time. It's Jacob's mouth, pressed where his own still stings. It's warmth and pressure and the rough dig of too much beard. Jacob has a hand on the back of his neck, an awkward dig of fingers to hold him there. It's everything they're not, everything they shouldn’t be. It's quietly desperate and confused.

But Esau doesn't try and stop him, doesn't twist away, because it's _Jacob._ And Jacob hasn't asked for anything he could give him for _years_. Hasn't ever asked, though maybe he's wanted. All Jacob has is want and enthusiasm, but the noises he makes are soft and low, unsteady like Esau has never heard them before. Jacob takes until he's struggling for air. Until he has to shift away and rest his forehead against Esau's and just breathe.

"Is that what you want, Jacob?" Esau asks, curious, quiet.

Jacob says nothing, but he doesn't let him go, fingers still twisted in the cloth of his shirt. His expression is too close to read properly. There's a tightness that's a million miles away from anger or the bland acceptance that he's come to hate.

"Jacob?"

In answer Jacob leans in and kisses him again, there's no force behind it this time, as if he doesn't expect to be pushed away.

"Yes." Jacob's hand is on the side of his face, strange and gentle. Which is more amusing than it should be, considering the skin of his cheek still feels too hot and too sensitive. "I want this."

There's the low murmur of voices, far enough away, but still audible. Esau pulls Jacob a little deeper into the jungle, a little further into the dark of the island.

"You can never do anything the easy way can you?" Esau chides quietly as he steps over rocks and sharp edged wood.

Jacob's fingers have found his own, winding through them like they're children again. Like that's something they can just do.

"You always make things look easy," Jacob protests. "Why isn't this the same?"

Esau snorts at him, amusement but not surprise. Because there are so many things Jacob doesn't know. Should know.

"Because you're my brother and we're not supposed to," he says.

He stops, turns, finds Jacob already close. Seeking permission, or demanding, on Jacob they both look the same, they both have that quiet intensity.

Jacob's hand is on the back of his neck again, too warm, fingers drifting underneath his hair. There's a thumb sliding somewhere sensitive, completely innocent and utterly maddening.

"I don't want to," Jacob admits. "With anyone else."

There's a bite there, like Jacob isn't sure which of them is at fault.

"You don't know anyone else," Esau offers. But he eases them back into the damp warmth of a tree, leaves and moss between his toes and Jacob slides into his space like he knows how already.

He's already pulling, greedily, at the back of Esau's neck. Like being given permission has made him brave.

Esau teaches Jacob how to open under the press of another, how to use teeth and tongue, and the bright sting of it where his lip has split feels like an extra bite of flavour that's just them.

They kiss messy and open-mouthed under the trees. Until Jacob's mouth is bruised red and Esau knows when he goes back and she'll look at him and she'll know what he's been doing.

Maybe she'll even know who with.


End file.
